


Nightshade

by seiyuna



Series: A flower called you has blossomed [1]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alpha Kuroro, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Sex, Black Whale Arc, Claiming Bites, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Omega Kurapika, Omega Verse, Porn With Plot, Scent Marking, Scents & Smells, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-16 14:31:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9276155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seiyuna/pseuds/seiyuna
Summary: Kurapika struggles with the realization that his worst enemy is the one destined for him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [莨菪|Nightshade](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11753721) by [Cloudystar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudystar/pseuds/Cloudystar)



Kurapika kneeled on the wooden floor with his head held high, spine impeccably straight, and a formality befitting of a person beyond his years.

He didn’t speak to ensure that his parents focused as much as possible. His mother set to work as she ground an herb with a pestle, her hands shaking with effort. Only the _tok tok_ of wood meeting wood punctured the silence.

“Your hand,” his father beckoned to him. He gently took Kurapika’s palm in his and squeezed in reassurance. “This will sting a bit.”

Kurapika shrugged. He broke his arm and sustained small injuries while exploring with Pairo. At Kurapika’s approval, his father took a small knife and quickly slid it over his skin.

He looked more distressed than Kurapika but what parent would want to injure their child? It hurt but it was nothing in comparison to what Kurapika experienced in the past. The blood ran and he let it trickle into the mortar.

His father wet a washcloth and pressed it against Kurapika’s wound. He looked apologetic but Kurapika smiled in understanding. He bandaged him up and his mother sighed in relief when the deed had been completed. His father ran his fingers through Kurapika’s hair and pushed his bangs up, exposing his forehead.

His mother scooped up the mixture with her fingers and applied it there in two strokes, forming a cross. It seemed to burn into his skin and while it wasn’t an unbearable sensation, it still stung.

His parents were quiet. His mother was about to speak but she glanced at his father and promptly shut her mouth. He was just as surprised as she was.

This ritual was supposed to end up with Kurapika presenting as a Beta just like them and the rest of their clan. Kurapika thought it was ridiculous that they had to follow the tradition but he found comfort in knowing that Pairo went through it too.

“So..?”

“The mark is green,” his mother finally said. “My son, you’re an Omega.”

Much to Kurapika’s surprise, his father started crying. They pulled Kurapika into a hug, reassuring him that everything was going to be alright even if he was different than everyone else.

At only twelve years old, Kurapika’s experienced two life-changing events.

Both were for the worst.

 

* * *

 

As Kurapika entered the room, Leorio quickly hid a bag behind himself. His efforts were in vain as a bottle tumbled out, rolling across the floor and stopping at Kurapika’s feet.

His heart sank.

“I’m sorry, I—I looked through your things by accident.”

Kurapika sighed and picked up the bottle of pills.

“I’m really sorry,” Leorio pleaded.

Leorio was a Beta and Kurapika had taken careful measures to hide his own status. By using scent-masking soap, he was typically mistaken for a Beta. Although he would not spend his heat with anyone, he also took contraception. The medication eased his symptoms.

“I was supposed to be a Beta.”

When people looked at Omegas, they thought of submissive little things that needed protection. Kurapika did not want that kind of dismissive look falling upon him. He wanted to be strong.

“I’m not weak.”

“I know. You’re incredibly strong,” Leorio reassured. “Just know that this won’t change how I view you.”

Kurapika gave him a small smile and motioned for him to sit at the table. “Thank you.”

Leorio walked over and grabbed a chair. He kept his voice low in case Gon and Killua returned. “If it’s okay for me to ask, when was your last heat?”

“Two years ago,” Kurapika admitted.

Leorio gaped at him. “Suppressing for that long has serious side effects.”

It was controversial for Omegas to have their heat as little as once a year. There were more important things for him to focus on.

“I know.”

Leorio showed a serious side to him as he explained how long-term use of suppressants were detrimental to an Omega’s health. Suppressants could throw his hormones into disarray, making his heats abnormal or irregular. Taking them too often would destroy his body over time.

Kurapika listened to him and assured that he could take care of himself. It was difficult to refrain from medication when his goal was in sight and he wasn’t planning to stop for anything. Not even for his bodily urges.

Kurapika didn’t need a mate. He wanted revenge and a mate would only get in the way of that.

 

* * *

 

The rain was difficult to ignore as the moisture sank into his clothes and boots. Running through Yorknew amongst the crowds of people, trying not to lose sight of his targets, was complicated to say the least. However, the weather was the least of his concerns as he continued to tail after the Phantom Troupe on foot.

As Kurapika was getting closer, the group in front of him split up. A man and two women ceased running and turned to face him.

At that moment, Kurapika leapt into the nearest alleyway and hid himself. The man dressed in black had to be their leader.

“Did you see them?” The sound of the man’s deep voice forced him out of his thoughts. Kurapika shuddered as he continued to speak to his group.

“I only caught a silhouette. I couldn’t see their faces, but one is in the alleyway,” the glasses-wearing woman replied.

“Another is behind the dumpster,” the other woman pointed out.

“Okay,” he instructed, “keep using Gyo.”

Kurapika’s heart pounded in his chest as the man began approaching him. Even with the fresh and earthy smell of the rain, a strong scent of coffee pervaded the air. His knees buckled and he felt a heat in the pit of his stomach.

_No._

Kurapika tried his best to ignore his body, the urges that set his entire being aflame with need. However, as the man walked closer, something was confirmed as they were in proximity. The man was his mate.

_No!_

At that moment, his mother’s words echoed in the back of his mind. _Omegas can know who their mate is just by one look. Their mate’s scent will be very pleasing, while the scent of other Alphas won’t be as nice._

Kurapika held his breath. It was all over if he succumbed now. He raised his hands defensively, ready to give it his all to fight them.

Then the unimaginable happened — Gon jumped in front of them and Killua revealed himself.

The shock of the revelation was enough that Kurapika gasped and felt as if he had been released from a vice-like grip. Part of him felt exhilarated that he found his mate, the other part devastated at the sacrifice of his companions.

He leaned into the air and breathed in as deeply as he could. He needed to hurry but he also wanted to turn away from all the complex feelings in his mind and heart.

 

* * *

 

“What are you looking at?” Kurapika felt his heart hammer erratically in his chest underneath the searching gaze of the man. The familiar smell of coffee wafted over him and it took everything in his power to control himself.

“I didn’t expect the chain user to be a woman.”

_He doesn’t know._

He didn’t know about Kurapika’s status and he was going to make sure it stayed that way.

“Did I say that? You shouldn’t let appearances deceive you,” Kurapika said as he removed the wig. He couldn’t let the man perturb him. “You should watch what you say, since it may be the last thing to come out of your mouth.”

“You won’t kill me.”

“I cannot forgive you for taking what belonged to us,” Kurapika bit out. He was certain that his eyes flashed crimson. If the man did not understand Kurapika’s motives, he would now.

“I don’t think you can,” he replied calmly.

Kurapika’s excuse for resorting to violence was that the man didn’t know his place. He didn’t dodge the punch and Kurapika heard a satisfying crunch and felt the warmth of his blood.

Kurapika kept many secrets.

This was one of them.

 

* * *

 

He stole everything from Kurapika.

In exchange, Kurapika took away his Nen and his comrades.

The small blade of his chain pierced the man’s chest and encased his heart. Kurapika could feel his heartbeat, calm and composed, just from the thin chain.

Kurapika’s own heart hurt, the pain ghosting along the edges. He wondered if it would get worse if he took the man’s life. Perhaps the pain would remain as a shadow, as proof that he was twisted enough to kill his own mate.

 

* * *

  

One night, the heavy weight had been lifted from his chest.

Kurapika had failed and everything was in vain. 

Yet, for the first time that night, nightmares did not haunt his sleep. 

In the coming months, Kurapika grew wiser. His life no longer revolved around thinking of how to destroy the Phantom Troupe for they would never perish. He would dedicate himself to recovering what his clan lost.

 

* * *

 

After reuniting with Leorio and joining the Zodiacs, he was officially advised to stop taking suppressants. Leorio had begged him to commit being off them for at least several months since he had been taking them for so long.

His own body frightened him. The heat could overcome his inhibitions and turn him into a pathetic, helpless wreck.

At Leorio’s request, Kurapika consulted with Cheadle and she agreed with Leorio about health concerns. She sent him away with boxes of special soaps and scrubs.

Kurapika became concerned about his heats. Even though his next one wouldn’t be for another month, there was only so much scent-masking soap could do.

 

* * *

 

On the eve of the Black Whale’s departure, a VIP celebration was to take place at the first deck’s ceremony hall. In addition to the royal family and politicians from the first deck, celebrities, prominent figures, and wealthy individuals from the second deck were invited to partake in the event. No expense was spared as the delicacies spread out on the tables were as exquisite as the decorations in every corner of the hall.

Kurapika stood by Queen Oito’s side as she held Prince Woble in her arms. Amidst a crowd of nobility and affluence, most people had respects to pay her and her daughter. No immediate disaster had befallen them yet.

Standing amongst so many people, especially Alphas, during his week of pre-heat was hurrying his symptoms along. He was paying the price by having taken too many suppressants and suddenly stopping. He just needed to accomplish his mission for the night and he could leave.  

His throat felt terribly parched. There was a thirst that none of the drinks could quench. Concern emanated from Queen Oito but he simply shook his head.

Approaching his target was not necessary because Kurapika was found first. There was no way Kurapika could have been scented, but he couldn’t think of any other reason why Tserriednich locked eyes with him from across the room.

Kurapika blanched at the possibility. After saying hello, Queen Oito drifted off with a group of young women dressed in elaborate gowns, leaving Kurapika with him. Despite that Kurapika was the bodyguard, she was the one keeping an eye on him and sent discreet glances his way.

When it came to Tserriednich, however, he didn’t seem to expect anything beyond the basic pleasantries. Kurapika tried not to grimace, ignoring the sharp jabs of heat in his stomach, as he gave his praise to Tserriednich and humored him in his knowledge of literature and the arts.

Tserriednich waved off his words with a dramatic show and apologized that he must be bored out of his mind just like him at the event, since no one else could rival their scholarship. That was a sign that their interaction was close to being successful.

As if in an effort to woo him, Tserriednich recited from his favorite poet:

_She walks in beauty, like the night_

_Of cloudless climes and starry skies;_

_And all that's best of dark and bright_

_Meet in her aspect and her eyes._

“I’m a guy,” Kurapika said with a biting smile. It was downright sickening to be the subject of another Alpha’s attention.

“I know,” he responded dismissively. “Then may I have this dance?”

Tserriednich gave a deep bow and took Kurapika’s hand. The touch was repulsive and he nearly retracted his hand. Tserriednich leaned down as if to kiss it.

Kurapika only saw a flash of black before his wrist was seized by someone else. Tserriednich’s eyes narrowed and Kurapika followed his glare, finding someone with a formal suit, tousled black hair, and untelling dark eyes. Kurapika choked on his breath from the intensity of his scent and a flash of heat wracked through his body.

Kuroro stood there beside him and returned a smile that sent shivers down Kurapika’s spine, as if it was one that came before he was about to succeed in stealing something. When he spoke, his voice was calm and cold as ice.

“My apologies Your Highness, but this dance is mine,” Kuroro proclaimed with unwavering defiance. His grip was strong, possessive even.

Kurapika was stunned. There was no dance as Kuroro whisked him away, out of the room. He hardly noticed the whispers and gazes that fell upon them.

When they turned into an empty hallway, Kurapika broke out of his grip and prevented Kuroro from dragging him around. “What the hell is wrong with you? What are you even doing here?”

“You’re an Omega,” Kuroro stated without answering him. It wasn’t a question.

Kurapika’s throat felt dry and he swallowed thickly. He had no reason to answer him but the word still slipped from his lips, a reminder of his weakness. “Yes.”

The warmth was unbearable. It terrified him that his body was betraying him now that it had recognized Kuroro as his. It had been over a year since he last saw him and a part of him yearned to touch him.

Kurapika was good at denying himself.

His turmoil did not go unnoticed as Kuroro reached out and passed a hand over his brow. Kurapika flinched but he let it rest on his cheek. His cool hand was in direct contact with his fever.

He didn’t want his first time to be forced by his biology. If Kuroro had any decency in him, he wouldn’t touch him and just leave him alone. Even so, he wasn’t going down without a fight. Being mated by an Alpha would just reinforce the reality that he was an Omega.

“Why aren’t you on suppressants?” Kuroro asked curiously. So he had scented Kurapika. While he seemed composed as always, despite being an unmated Alpha, Kurapika felt like he was being burned alive.

“Leorio recommended that I stop taking them.”

“The medical student,” Kuroro said. “You love him.”

“Yes,” Kurapika stated without hesitation. Kuroro’s expression darkened. Kurapika was tempted to provoke Kuroro further at how easily he was able to get under his skin, but he decided against it. “I love Leorio. But I also love Killua and Gon.”

Kuroro regarded him pensively. “I never thought I would end up with you as a mate. You, with hatred in your eyes and vengeance in your heart.”

“I don’t want you,” Kurapika breathed out.

“But I might.”

That hit him hard.

Kurapika felt panic rise in his throat.

“Just because of this—” Kurapika motioned in the space between them, “—bond?”

“You’re mistaken. You’ve piqued my interest in the past, challenging my Spiders, defeating two of them, and even sealing my Nen away.” Kuroro gave a wry smile. “How surprised was I when the prophesied god of death turned out to be a brat.”

“Well, fuck you Kuroro. Because I’m trying to make the right decisions and being with you is going down a road that I swore to avoid.”

Kuroro hummed in amusement.

"I want you to claim me just as I've claimed you,” Kuroro revealed with an unyielding certainty. His hand moved to Kurapika’s blond hair and gave it a tug to the side, exposing Kurapika’s neck.

"You have not claimed me," Kurapika spat. _Not yet_. "I don’t trust you. You have no hope with me without trust."

His dark eyes brightened. "Is that a challenge? I’ll just have to seduce you then," Kuroro said softly, in a tone that demanded no argument.

Kuroro ran his thumb over Kurapika’s bottom lip. At that moment, Kurapika was sure that a look of reluctance met with horror had crossed his face. What Kuroro said was a different story.

“Let’s get you some water and medication. Come with me,” Kuroro beckoned and turned away.

“No. I’m not one of your subservient Spiders.” Kurapika stepped backwards and pressed his back to the wall for support. The sudden change in attitude was unexpected. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Kuroro raised an eyebrow. “Suit yourself.”

“If you don’t wish to lose your life, get away from me.” He resisted shivering under the weight of his stare.  

“How predictable that you’re not above killing me,” Kuroro deadpanned.

“Leave,” Kurapika demanded, trying to maintain an unaffected façade. It was his last warning. His legs were about to give out and the last person he wanted to see him like that was Kuroro.

Kuroro observed him with projected apathy. He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over Kurapika.

“I’ll come find you later.” It was an unwanted promise.

Like that, Kuroro was gone.

Kurapika ran to the nearest single-use restroom and locked himself in it. He leaned against the door. A desperate sob escaped from his throat and he let his head fall into his hands. He needed to do something, to douse the fire unfurling throughout his body.

He looked up at the mirror and his reflection showed eyes tinged crimson, matching the pink flush on his skin. He had worn contacts but he wasn't sure when his eyes started changing. 

He took off the jacket covering his shoulders. Kuroro’s natural scent made his thighs tremble. In contrast to his mind telling him _this is wrong, don’t do this_ , he held the jacket close to him, breathing in everything that was Kuroro.

His mind went hazy, intoxicated with his scent.

The essence of dark coffee with the crispness of leather was raw yet refined, sultry yet sophisticated. The sweetness and comfort of night-blooming jasmine followed in a narcotic haze. It was mysterious. Kurapika expected danger, but he only felt safe.

His head spun.

He didn’t realize he was hard until he looked down. Relief was his greatest necessity at that moment and denying himself that was foolish.

With shaky hands, Kurapika undid his pants. He slipped one hand underneath, wrapping it around his member and stroking himself with fervor. With his other hand, he gripped Kuroro’s jacket, keeping it pressed to his nose. He was overly sensitive, quivering with every movement.

He was holding his breath until the thought of Kuroro touching him came to mind. Kuroro, his Alpha, pleasuring him and whispering his name with warm breath against his ear, too close to his neck.

Kurapika gasped. It took several more strokes and a flick of the wrist and he was—

Coming.

His body trembled with an intensity he had never felt before and come slicked his hand. Shame, hunger, and a newfound interest coursed through his very being.

He was terrified he would get addicted.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I’m sorry for my absence. I haven’t updated my other fic since like Leorio, I am trying to get accepted to medical school. I’m not sure whether to apply this year or next year. Academics are my priority at the moment but I still wanted to upload this. I plan to have three chapters but there’s a possibility for more, depending if I have time. If I don’t set goals, then this won’t ever get finished. I promise that the remaining chapters are longer! 
> 
> Second, I’m sorry if this made anyone uncomfortable. Omegaverse AUs are very rare in the fandom so I’m sure it’s not everyone’s cup of tea.
> 
> Third, I’m sorry to Kurapika for putting him through this lmao. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. Please leave a comment! 
> 
> You can also reach out to me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/kimberlyenne) or [Tumblr](http://seiyuna.tumblr.com/).


	2. Chapter 2

Kurapika apologized profusely at his brief absence.

He owed it to Senritsu for monitoring the situation for him. It was irresponsible of him to abandon his duties, even for a short moment, but Queen Oito was merciful and understanding.

As he escorted Queen Oito back to her living quarters, she regarded him curiously.

“Who was that prince charming of yours?” Queen Oito asked. Despite the circumstances, she allowed a small smile. She looked less sullen and much younger like that.

“He’s no prince.” Kurapika looked at her incredulously. A smile of his own twitched at his lips, as it was rare for her to have an unworried look on her face. “He’s a villain.”

She giggled, looking down at her child. At the sound, Prince Woble smiled and cooed enthusiastically.

“I’m serious, Your Highness. He’s nothing but a thief.”

“I see,” Queen Oito murmured, not entirely convinced. “Please, let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

He expected that he would need to be out of commission for at least a week with his impending heat. That wasn’t realistic with the current state of affairs.

“I will make sure that nothing hinders my work,” Kurapika resolved. “I promise you that.”

He would never be able to ensure their safety if he couldn’t even take care of himself.

 

* * *

 

A sweet scent wafted in the air when Kurapika opened the door.

It tickled his nose and he came to find several bouquets and an ornate vase of _Lychnis viscaria_ on his desk.

The smell was familiar to him, for childhood curiosity led to plucking all sorts of flowers in the forests of Lukso, bringing them to Pairo so he could smell what he could not see.

The bright pink petals were soft under his fingertips, just as he remembered.

Everything else seemed to be in place in his bedroom. In the kitchen, however, there was a white bag neatly placed on the table. After rummaging through it, he found different brands of painkillers and vitamins, water bottles, and—packs of crème caramel pudding?

Kurapika hoped that this was a one-time thing. Perhaps Kuroro went mad after breathing in his pheromones.

He had heard of Alphas becoming inclined to shower their mate in gifts near the time of their heat, but this was an unwelcome gesture.

 

* * *

 

"I'm sorry."

"All you do is apologize," Kurapika teased, despite himself. 

"I really am." At the end of the line, Leorio was bursting with apologies. "I should have been more considerate of your current situation."

"You were concerned about my well-being. You were right."

"I should have been more helpful. I'm sorry, Kurapika," Leorio said, regret evident in his tone. "You're going to have to hang on, but if there's anything I can do to help, even if it's just escorting you back to your room, I'll be there for you. I'm sorry I can't come see you right now. Things are currently hectic on the third deck but I will do my best to be there for you."

Kurapika idly considered telling him about Kuroro but ultimately decided against it. 

He blamed his hormones for the sound welling up in his throat. He was never this emotional and he was glad Leorio wasn't able to see him like this in person.

"I appreciate it."

 

* * *

 

There were certain things that Kurapika refused to let himself feel and this was one of them.

His body ached with an unforgivable need that could not be simply ignored. Kurapika was long accustomed to the hunger pangs that rendered him powerless, but this was different and disturbing.

A part of him that he firmly rejected yearned to press close to Kuroro, melt into his touch, and become part of his skin.

_You could give in._

He closed his eyes, refusing the voice in the back of his mind.

_You could make him yours._

His resolve was slowly weakening as wave after wave of frustration came upon him, urging him to act on his hunger. He cursed himself for feeling so vulnerable and out-of-control.

He was stronger than this.

 

* * *

 

That night, Kurapika suffered from nightmares that left his skin flushed and mouth parched.

He dreamt of the shore, of crisp wind and air that smelled like salt and the sea. The sand pricked at his feet as he walked barefoot along the edge of the water. He reached down to scoop up sand, watching how it filtered through the spaces between his fingers and rejoined the sand beneath him.

The moon was full in the sky above, seemingly close enough to touch.

Waves lapped at his feet, pushing and pulling. At high tide, Kurapika saw him.

Kurapika squinted amidst the moonlight reflecting on the endless sea and there was a figure in the water, beckoning him to follow. The water rose to his legs and seafoam fizzed around his knees.

Kurapika was not afraid of failure. He wasn’t afraid of leaping from the highest peak and finding out if he could fly or falling from the edge of the cliff, if not for Pairo.

It was what made him strong.

Yet in strength, weakness had also been born.

The figure was elusive. When he was close enough to touch, Kurapika closed his fingers. He grasped empty air, and then the night was too dark to see.

He breathed in cold seawater and the salt burned as it rushed into his nose and mouth. His lungs screamed or perhaps they screamed for Kurapika who could not. The ocean dragged him down and down.

He was helpless and everything went dark.

Kurapika arose to consciousness at sea spray tickling his skin. His clothes were wet and stiff from the water and sand. There was a cool hand against his brow and a low voice telling him that it was time to wake up.

When Kurapika opened his eyes, it was no longer night and he was alone.

 

* * *

 

After returning from work, he opted for a bath. His limbs felt heavy, as if he had waded through seawater.

Kurapika soaked in the steaming bath, washing himself with scent-masking soap and taking special precautions around his scent glands on his neck and wrists. The hot water eased the tension in his muscles, but the ache persisted and spread throughout his body.

When he dried himself, he slipped on a plain tee shirt and sweatpants.

“Took you long enough. I was beginning to wonder if you passed out in there.”

“What—” Kurapika gasped. “What the hell.”

Kuroro was sprawled out on his bed, leafing through a book. He turned to his side and leaned on his elbow, giving Kurapika an appraising look. “Security is more lax than you would think around here.”

“Get out. _Now_.”

Unperturbed by his demand, Kuroro sat up and took out a large box. “But I brought this for you.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to?” Kuroro didn't sound sure of himself. “I just wanted to check up on my Omega.”

The possessive marker sent a shudder up his spine. Normal people didn’t break into bedrooms in the middle of the night but Kuroro was anything but normal.

“What part of _get out_ do you not understand?” Kurapika snapped in tone as sharp as his glare.

“I don’t want to leave you.” Kuroro met his eyes in an even look. His gaze was searching and Kurapika was not sure what he was searching for, but he didn’t have answers.

“Are you looking for a fight? I’m tired,” Kurapika said flatly. It was the truth. “If you’re not leaving, then I am.”

Kurapika needed distance. It was difficult to suppress his urges when he was this close. He tripped over his shoes, then reached down to pick them up. It took far too long to slip into his shoes as his hands quivered while lacing them up.

He made his way to the desk, intending to swipe the room key, but Kuroro firmly placed his hand over his.

Kuroro flipped his hand over and kept his fingers on his wrist, dangerously close to Kurapika’s scent glands. His pulse spiked under Kuroro’s grip.

“You don’t look well,” Kuroro commented.

With his other hand, Kuroro wiped the sweat that pooled at Kurapika’s collarbone. He brushed along the side of his neck, where he would have to mark in order to claim Kurapika.

_Oh God._

The world spun out of focus.

Kurapika became bewildered when his surroundings started to move, swaying to the side. He shut his eyes, overwhelmed with the unstable sensation. Hands pulled at his shoulders, steadying him in place until everything was right again.

Kurapika prepared himself for the worst and opened his eyes, surely taking on a scarlet color now. He had fallen forward onto Kuroro’s chest.

“Easy there,” Kuroro said softly, supporting him in a tense embrace.

Kurapika knew this feeling well.

It was like he forgot how to breathe.

He began gasping desperately in short, harsh breaths. The potency of the heat overwhelmed his senses and petrified him.

He lacked the strength to push Kuroro away. The feeling of helplessness made his fingers curl into Kuroro’s shirt.

Kuroro rubbed circles in the small of his back and exhaled. Kurapika exhaled with him, breathing in time together.

When he was pacified, Kuroro took his hand and gently lowered him into the adjacent chair. Every touch sent shivers throughout his body. “Don’t move, alright? I’ll be right back.”

He tried to swallow down the fire that threatened to consume him whole. Before he knew it, tears stung at his eyes and he swept them away furiously. He was a muddled mess, weary and aching.

Kuroro returned with a glass of ice water.

“I don’t need anything from you,” Kurapika denied.

The glass was pushed into his hands anyway. He didn't want to lose control, not when he made it this far, but Kuroro’s scent pleased him and it was becoming more and more difficult to focus.

“As you’ve made clear,” Kuroro said, reaching down and brushing away the faint tracks of tears on his cheeks. He kneeled on one knee in front of Kurapika and guided the glass to his lips.

Kurapika drank from it and swallowing hurt his throat. The water burned going down, like fire.

“Are you always so quick to deny yourself of everything?” Kuroro asked quietly. “If you continue to deny yourself, it will end up controlling you. You will fall further and further down.”

Kurapika found truth in his words and that infuriated him.

"Something like that could never restrain me.” This was coming from someone who always took what he wanted.

Kurapika’s eyes turned cruel. “Still, didn’t you come all the way here just to fuck me? Wasn’t that your intention?”

Kuroro blinked in stunned disbelief. He frowned in disapproval at his choice of words. “I want you to admit that you want me as much as I want you.”

“You want to control me,” Kurapika accused in a calm tone that belied his rising temper. “You think you can make me submit to you.”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head.

“Whatever you say, _Danchou_.” Kurapika laughed bitterly, a harsh edge to his voice. He blamed it on the heat, twisting his words into awful, spiteful things. “Am I not just a lowly Omega here to serve you?”

“Don’t call me that,” Kuroro admonished with a dark, unfathomable look in his eyes. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking that I don’t see you as my equal.”

Kurapika did not believe him.

“You’re pursuing Tserriednich and aiming to recover the Scarlet Eyes. Know this—you will get nowhere in the current state that you’re in. He’s interested in you as well and I won’t let him have you,” Kuroro warned with brutal honesty. His voice was like glass, smooth at some parts and sharp enough to cut at others. “How can you possibly protect your employers if you can’t even protect yourself?”

Kuroro took Kurapika’s hand and squeezed it. A surprised sound tore from Kurapika’s throat as Kuroro brought his wrist to his lips and kissed it.

“The only way to stop your heat after it’s begun is if you mate with an Alpha.” Kuroro took on a softer tone. “I can help you, Kurapika.”

For the first time that night, Kurapika could read the look on his face. Kuroro’s grey eyes were earnest and it was that doting look that did it for him.

Blood was rushing in Kurapika’s ears. He wanted to make choices that he could live with and there were certain lines that he did not want to cross.

He was conditioned to feel a certain way about Kuroro—not the Alpha side of him, but the Phantom Troupe side and that was not going to change with gentle words.

There was a moment of indecision and then he saw the bigger picture.

Strange, how the realization stung more than he could have ever imagined.

Kuroro was right. He couldn’t simply abandon his duties for a week, especially not with the current situation among the Kakin royalty. Queen Oito was relying on him to bring her and her child to safety.

He did not need to love his mate.

He was going to be reckless.

“Just this once,” Kurapika said under his breath. He would give Kuroro his body, but not his heart — it would have purpose, but no meaning at all. “And we will return to how we were initially. If you can’t do this unconditionally, then I don’t want it.”

Kuroro nodded. “That’s fine.”

Figuring that actions would convey things more than words, Kurapika pulled Kuroro up by his necktie and met his lips in an aggressive kiss. It gave Kurapika an outlet for his repressed emotions.

Kissing Kuroro was much like drowning.

Kurapika lost himself to Kuroro’s lips. He tasted sweeter than expected and Kurapika wanted to know how he had lived before this moment. Kurapika’s vision turned hazy with the feeling of Kuroro’s hot mouth moving over his own and his fingers digging into Kurapika’s thighs.

Unsatisfied with simply kissing, he tangled his hand in Kuroro’s hair and dragged him closer. Kuroro kissed him back with fervor and he couldn’t stop the soft sigh that escaped from his throat.

In the softness of Kuroro’s lips, Kurapika felt a victorious smile coming from him.

Perhaps there was a perverse desire to gain control as Kurapika forcefully pulled Kuroro’s hair, enough to hurt, effectively breaking the kiss. Kurapika guided Kuroro to his feet and pushed at him until their legs tangled and stumbled together and Kuroro’s back hit the bed.

Kurapika took off his shoes and straddled him, knees on either side of him. Kuroro’s hands made their way up to his waist. He found that he liked looking down at Kuroro like this, with his black hair splayed out on the sheets like spilled ink.

He traced his fingers along the contours of Kuroro’s body, caressing his shoulders and down his sides. His black necktie came undone by Kurapika’s hands. Next came the buttons on Kuroro’s dress shirt and Kurapika fumbled impatiently on the last button until Kuroro chuckled and had to help him.

Kurapika splayed his hands across the broad expanse of muscle and memorized the strength under his fingertips. Kuroro slipped out of the shirt entirely and exposed the spider tattoo on his right arm, etched with a number befitting of its leader. Kurapika’s heart simmered with loyalty to his clan, to himself.

Still, he bit back a moan when Kuroro grabbed his hips and pulled him down. He wasn’t the only one who was hard. Kurapika rocked back until Kuroro’s arousal was pressed against the curve of his backside, eliciting a groan from Kuroro.

Kuroro gripped him tightly and flipped him over on his back. A gasp came from Kurapika’s lips at the impact.

Underneath his stare, Kurapika was a butterfly behind framed glass.

Kurapika pushed back at Kuroro’s chest with his palm, but Kuroro pinned his wrist to the bed. Their lips met again in a kiss that left him breathless. There was a series of tender kisses along his jawline, on his eyelids, and then onto his neck.

Kurapika froze when teeth grazed the skin on his neck. Kuroro bit down, not hard enough to break the skin and claim him, but enough to bruise. He sucked on the mark, drawing a shaky exhale from Kurapika.

With his other hand, Kuroro hooked his fingers under the waistband of Kurapika’s sweatpants and dragged them down with his undergarment languidly, taking his time as if he was unwrapping something precious.

Slick ran down Kurapika’s bare thighs. His face grew hot at Kuroro’s devouring stare. He wondered what those grey eyes saw, what Kuroro thought of him as he lay beneath him with his lips swollen, skin flushed, and eyes crimson.

“You’re pretty like this,” Kuroro murmured and he wondered if he had spoken aloud.

“Hurry up,” Kurapika hissed.

A light chuckle came from Kuroro. “Do you have—?”

Kurapika interrupted by motioning to the drawer. He could hear Kuroro opening the drawer and clicking open the bottle cap but he didn’t truly process it until Kuroro moved in between his legs.

Kuroro lay kisses on his inner thighs, nipping at his skin until he produced red marks akin to burns. Kuroro began easing in a lubricated finger inside of him and he found that it wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. Kurapika pushed his hips forward, trying to force it deeper, and Kuroro turned tense.

Kuroro’s breath hitched when Kurapika spread his legs wider to grant him greater access.

“Is this new to you?”

His question drew a laugh from Kurapika. “Why would I have lubricant if I didn’t finger myself thinking of you?”

Kuroro swore and he was already working in a second finger inside him, stretching and scissoring. Kurapika’s thighs trembled at the sensation of how his fingers pressed against the walls inside of him.

With the curl of his third finger, Kuroro brushed against something that made him arch his back and feel like he was falling apart.

Kuroro thrusted three slick fingers in and out of him, pressing against the same sensitive spot again and again until Kurapika made a breathy, keening sound and shuddered around his fingers. “Here?”

It was too much and Kurapika was going to break.

“Get on with it,” Kurapika said heatedly.

“Let me make you feel good,” Kuroro said quietly. The gentle tone coming from an Alpha like him tugged at Kurapika’s heartstrings. “Let me take care of you.”

Kuroro made quick work of the rest of their clothing. When Kuroro undid his belt and pants, Kurapika swallowed at the visual.

Kurapika canted his hips off of the bed when the head of Kuroro’s cock pressed at his entrance, enough that Kurapika was nearly stretched over him.

“So tight,” Kuroro murmured. He gripped Kurapika’s hips, slightly shaking with the effort of holding back.

His cock was thicker than his fingers had been and Kurapika threw his head back with a silent moan as Kuroro slid inside, filling him up completely. He was stretched and overwhelmingly full, joined with Kuroro like this.

The feeling was foreign and unbeknownst to him. Kurapika let his eyes flutter close and rested on the pillow.

“Is it okay?” Kuroro was undeniably patient and not as aggressive as Kurapika would have expected. “Tell me if you want to stop.”

“More,” Kurapika urged him on. It was supposed to be a demand, but it came out more like a whine.

“Remember to breathe,” Kuroro warned and he wasn’t sure what that meant.

Kuroro pulled back and slammed his hips forward, causing Kurapika to choke on his breath. Kuroro watched his every reaction and his subsequent thrusts were slow and carefully controlled, but Kurapika still wanted more. He wanted Kuroro to fuck him senseless, not move so excruciatingly slow.

He hooked his legs around Kuroro’s waist and that served to drive Kuroro deeper. Kuroro gave him exactly what he wanted. Pulling Kurapika’s hips closer to him, he set a fast pace, hitting deep inside him with each thrust.

Kurapika dug his nails into Kuroro’s back, holding onto him desperately, as he was reduced to inarticulate moans and gasps. Being so close to Kuroro and breathing in his intoxicating scent left him in a daze. He wondered if he smelled as nice to Kuroro.

He nuzzled into Kuroro’s neck, next to his scent glands, and covered himself in that familiar scent. The movement induced a satisfied hum from Kuroro, for he would be able to smell himself on Kurapika now.

He carded his fingers in his black hair, pushing his bangs back. Kurapika’s legs tightened around Kuroro when their gazes met, for he looked far more familiar with his hair slicked back. His heart twisted a bit and he initiated a feverish kiss to distract himself from how wrong this was.

Kuroro bit at his lower lip and broke the kiss to sit up on his heels, changing the angle, and it was beyond anything Kurapika could have ever imagined. Kuroro’s cock slid against his most sensitive spot, arousing a strangled moan from Kurapika. That did not go unnoticed as Kuroro hit that spot again, harder this time, until Kurapika heard himself cry out.

Kurapika’s fingers grasped at the pillow and sheets and Kuroro pounded into him relentlessly, pulling Kurapika toward him with every thrust, his grip hard enough to leave bruises. It was too good. More than good.

“Kuroro,” he gasped and he was surprised at how rough his voice sounded.

“Say my name again.” Kuroro had a dark, hungry look in his eyes and it was laced with want. His Alpha wanted him and the demand made his heart race.

“K—Kuroro.” Kurapika gritted his teeth as his thoughts scattered, overwhelmed by unadulterated pleasure.

Kuroro’s grasp on him tightened and he rocked forward, increasing the pace of his thrusts.

“Say it properly,” Kuroro growled, nearly animalistic. Kurapika was too far gone to resent his demands.

“Kuroro,” Kurapika repeated and it was dangerously close to begging. Kurapika took Kuroro’s hand and guided him to his erection, showing Kuroro how he wanted to be touched, where to stroke and press.

He caught on quickly.

“Again.”

“Kuroro, please, I’m going to—”

Kurapika was rewarded with a particularly hard thrust, forceful enough to push him up on the bed. He tossed his head back, baring his neck to Kuroro. That proved too tempting as Kuroro lowered himself closer to Kurapika and sank his teeth into his skin, drawing blood.

Kurapika could feel the mark sparking, for Kuroro completed the bond between them.

“Mine,” Kuroro said aloud and the words were muffled against the broken skin of Kurapika’s neck.

Kurapika heard. He heard and he rocked their hips together, harder than before.

Kuroro’s pace faltered and he came inside him, forcing Kurapika’s own body into honesty as orgasm washed over him.

“Yes,” Kurapika gasped in the heat of the moment. He was nearly sobbing and writhing underneath Kuroro from the orgasmic aftershocks. “Yours.”

Kurapika could feel Kuroro’s member swell and pulsate inside of him. He inhaled sharply at the sensation of his knot and Kuroro kissed and licked at the mark to distract him from the pressure.

Carefully, Kuroro rolled them over so that he was on his back and Kurapika was resting on his chest. Kurapika was unable to move his body due to the knot inside him.

Silence stretched between them.

“Are you alright?”

Kurapika didn’t know.

His heart clenched with guilt. Amidst the tightness in his neck and lower back, the stickiness of sweat and come, he thought that this was everything he wanted, but he was uncertain if this was how he wanted it.

“What do I smell like to you?” Kurapika asked instead.

Kuroro breathed in, his chest rising and sinking. “Like clean air. It’s rather weightless, but you remind me of fresh rainwater and the earth after a storm.”

Kurapika didn’t respond and simply lay there in Kuroro’s warm embrace, letting his heat ease away. He felt terribly safe, but this was what having a mate felt like.

Kuroro shifted beneath him and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. He tapped at Kurapika’s thigh, indicating for him to get up. The knot subsided and Kurapika moved to a sitting position, letting Kuroro pull out of him with a wet, indecent sound.

Kurapika’s eyes widened, feeling slick and come seep out of his entrance. He didn’t dare look at Kuroro.

His gaze burned into the sheets as Kuroro got up and left the bed. He didn’t know if Kuroro would leave just like that, but the light in the bathroom had flickered on and the water in the bath started running.

Exhaustion sank into his bones and he was close to drifting off to sleep. The sound of padded footsteps approached him and then, he was swept off the bed in a bridal carry.

“What—”

“I need to clean you up.” A pleased expression radiated from Kuroro and Kurapika’s protests immediately ceased.

Kuroro set him down in the warm bath and left him once more. Kurapika was dumbfounded at the treatment he was receiving. The warm water only served to contribute to his drowsiness.

Moments later, Kuroro reappeared with a bundle of sheets that he piled into the washing machine. The water splashed as Kuroro climbed into the bath behind him, pressed against his skin.

“Try not to fall asleep,” he reminded, low into Kurapika’s ear.

“I won’t. This bath isn’t big enough for the two of us,” Kurapika sighed, eliciting a light laugh from him.

Kuroro nuzzled into his neck rather affectionately and he found himself leaning into the touch.

“You smell nice,” Kuroro said and it made Kurapika’s heart swell.

Kuroro reached for the shampoo and poured it into his palm. It was then that Kurapika realized that Kuroro would be smothered in his scent, from being so close to him and using his soap.

He ran his fingers through Kurapika’s blond hair and massaged the scalp, combing through all the strands to remove any tangles. Kurapika’s eyes fluttered closed and he made a content noise, letting Kuroro take his time. After they both lathered and rinsed their hair, Kuroro retrieved the body gel and coated his hands in it.

His hands slid across Kurapika’s shoulders and back, onto his arms, and making their way over to his chest. Kuroro continued exploring the rest of his body with tenderness and reverence, showing Kurapika an intimacy different from what they had shared earlier.

The feeling was short-lived as Kuroro’s fingers glided over his nipples. Kurapika let out a small whimper. As if Kuroro was gauging his reactions, he pressed a finger at Kurapika’s entrance. He sucked in a sharp breath and a lazy flame roused at his lower abdomen.

“Stop.” Kurapika breathed. “I can do it myself.”

“Alright,” Kuroro said, kissing the mark on his neck. “Alright, Kurapika.”

Afterward, Kuroro toweled him dry and took care of him until the very last moment. The burning ache in Kurapika’s body faded and had been replaced by a languid satisfaction.

On freshly made bed sheets, as Kurapika nestled into strong arms and breathed in scents that reminded him of himself, he succumbed to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * The meaning of _L. viscaria_ in the Victorian language of flowers is: will you dance with me?  
>  * Kuroro's love for pudding/flan comes from the Phantom Troupe drama CD.  
> * Kuroro broke into his bedroom three times. Kurapika changes his lock after this chapter.  
> * I often think about pollution in Meteor City and how the environment there is vastly different from Lukso Province.  
> * Pregnancy is an important part of Omegaverse AUs in general, but I will not be including it in the context of this story. Perhaps in a sequel or in a different AU if anyone would be interested in it. I do have many headcanons about kurokura children, like how they'd have a daughter with Kuroro's hair color and Kurapika's eyes. I am also desperate for a single father AU lmao.  
> * In my AU, bonding occurs through a claiming bite on the neck.
> 
> The last chapter will come later. I have to study physics now -- wish me luck!
> 
> I would also love to hear what you think. Feel free to leave a comment and thanks for reading!
> 
> Maybe I will create a kurokura LINE chat group or something.. this ship is so lonely T_T 
> 
> You can also reach out to me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/kimberlyenne) or [Tumblr](http://seiyuna.tumblr.com/).


	3. Chapter 3

In a quiet town, news had arrived without warning.

It made the front page of the major newspapers, complete with large photos of the surrounding area to capture the attention of readers, as if the sensational headlines had not done so. The press never hesitated when it came to reporting tragedies, especially when they were of such a great magnitude.

Lukso Province had become a crux of massacre.

Kurapika’s fingers curled on the newsprint and he sat there silently, shoulders bowed by a heavy weight. His parents, family, friends, Pairo—now they were nothing more than decapitated bodies without eyes, decaying in an unknown land without graves to remember their names.

At the same time, Kurapika was only a boy of twelve. From this moment on, he was forced to grow up too quickly.

 

* * *

 

He needed to survive.

He should have grieved because it was his place as the survivor to grieve. He chose vengeance instead—otherwise, he would have been left as an empty shell and as dead as the rest of his clan.

 

* * *

 

It was an eternity before their paths crossed.

The man was clad in black, the grim reaper incarnate. The fur coat draped over his shoulders, trailing behind him like the blood and corpses left in his wake, the only proof that he ever existed.

As much as Kurapika wanted closure, there was no answer waiting for him. The man kept his silence to the point that it had become a method of torture.

His life was heavy in Kurapika’s hands. The chains coiled tightly around his heart as it pumped with its last bursts of sputtering life. His heartbeat shuddered underneath the chains and yet, he smiled.

The curve of his lips was cold and triumphant. His mouth moved to the shape of words, but Kurapika couldn’t hear him, too distracted by the heartbeat that grew louder and louder in his ears.

One final beat and there was no longer light in his eyes, swallowing Kurapika in endless black.

There were people dead because of him. They were murderers and Kurapika told himself that he didn’t care about their lives and the impact of their deaths on their families and friends. It was the fact that he did it—he had murdered. His actions were indistinguishable from the very criminals that he sought to prevent.

What he didn’t expect was to be filled with such a profound sense of _loss_ , as if he was missing something important.

He would not dwell on it.

Sympathy never saved anyone.

 

* * *

 

He awoke with a shuddering breath. He didn’t open his eyes, in fear that all he would see was a broken body and a face with a lifeless stare.

Slowly, the rest of the world came back into existence. Quiet breathing that did not belong to him. Strong arms that held him close from behind, possessively rather than protectively. He reluctantly opened his eyes and brought his palms to his face.

They were free of blood.

Kurapika freed himself from his mate’s grasp and turned to him. Black hair framed his face like a veil, obscuring the cross tattoo on his forehead. The glow of the bedside lamp made him look even more youthful.

_It would be so easy._

Taking his life there and then would be so easy, yet relief washed over him at the sight of how Kuroro was mercifully alive. The feeling was unforgivable and Kurapika didn’t know what to make of it. He didn’t know himself anymore.

After fighting with himself for so long, he had succumbed to instinct. Kurapika was too eager to taste the sweetness of his lips, breathe in his scent, allowing himself to be filled without complaint.

Kurapika took one last glance at his mate and quietly left the bed to enter the bathroom. His reflection was thoroughly debauched, with bruises all over his thighs and chest. The sensation was foreign, but not entirely unwelcome.

He examined his neck in the mirror and the bite mark was raw, swollen with a fierce red color and an underlying purple bruise. He had never seen anything quite like it.

Prodding the mark with his fingers, he hissed at the pain he received in response and snatched his hand away with a frown. He didn’t actually look any worse for wear, except for his neck.

It would be one of many marks that Kuroro left on him.

When Kurapika returned to the room, he flicked on the switch, flooding the room with light. Kuroro was still breathing steadily, his eyelashes fluttering in slumber. Their clothing was scattered over the floor as evidence of what had happened the night before. In haste, he opened the wardrobe for a new set of clothes and changed into his usual professional attire.

Kurapika sat on the edge of the bed and shook Kuroro before he began to stir. Finally, he peeked out from the blanket and sheets, blinking in bleary wakefulness. His hair was disheveled, sticking up in all sorts of directions.

“What time is it?” Kuroro mumbled.

“Five,” Kurapika answered curtly. “Time for me to get ready for work.”

“I’m not a morning person,” he muttered. As he moved to a sitting position, the blanket fell from his bare chest. There was the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips and Kurapika had to turn away.

From the corner of his eye, he could tell that Kuroro was leaning in for a kiss. Kuroro’s lips were immediately blocked with his hand.

“Don’t tell me that you’ve forgotten about our agreement,” Kurapika said warily.

“Not at all,” Kuroro replied, before pressing a chaste kiss to his palm.

Kurapika grimaced and retracted his hand. “I’m giving you ten minutes to get dressed and leave.”

As Kuroro began to pick up the articles of clothing strewn over the floor, Kurapika returned to the wardrobe, absentmindedly searching through his own clothing. A stiff silence descended upon them.

Kurapika decided to break it.

“Why did you agree to my terms?” Kurapika asked quietly.

A short rustle and clink of the belt buckle before Kuroro answered. “You are my fated partner and I wanted to mark you before anyone else did. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Kurapika responded, despite that everything was wrong. His tone was calm and polite, as if he was speaking to a stranger.

“Right,” Kuroro said slowly.

Kurapika’s own hand was far from steady either as he reached out to remove Kuroro’s jacket from the wardrobe. Their eyes met and Kurapika saw his own uncertainty reflected back in Kuroro’s eyes.

“Take this back.” He tossed the jacket on the bed and glanced at the box that Kuroro had kept on the table. “That too.”

Kuroro nodded toward the table. “You should keep that one.”

“I don’t want it,” Kurapika firmly persisted.

Kuroro was never one to listen. Watching him retrieve the box and hold it out to Kurapika made his old wounds ache and the mark on his neck pulsate. Kurapika didn’t know what to do. He wanted to blame it on his mark, though the feeling was more than skin-deep.

The box was urged into his hands and Kuroro left without a word.

 

* * *

 

Despite everything, Kurapika’s mind was clearer than ever. After spending only a day with his mate, the heat that afflicted him was gone and he felt renewed.

He was prepared to proceed with his plan to transfer Queen Oito and Prince Woble to the third deck, safe from the consequences of the succession war.

“You were wise in distancing yourself,” Queen Oito had remarked with a solemn smile, “but your partner will not be able to escape from you either.”

Something in the air about her made Kurapika wanted to know more about her mate. He repressed his curiosity and focused on the matters at hand instead.

It was difficult to process the reality that Kuroro slept in his bed. He changed the sheets to remove all traces of Kuroro’s scent, but it was futile because his touch would never leave him. It would follow him like those grey eyes, imprinted so darkly in his mind.

 

* * *

 

Several days came and gone before Kurapika paid attention to the untouched box on the table. He held his breath and carefully uncovered the lid.

The relic of a ghost looked back at him with unseeing eyes. His chest felt awfully tight, his heart radiating with a deep sense of loss and pain.

He picked up the canisters reverently, the glass cool to the touch. After all this time, a pair must have been with Kuroro. He wanted to believe that this time, the eyes were in their original states and not conjured replicas that would vanish into thin air.

Kurapika remembered to exhale.

 

* * *

 

“I’m worried about you.”

Leorio was only able to spare one of his breaks to meet, but a few minutes was enough for Kurapika. He was so full of love and the only person around to tell Kurapika to stop pushing himself so hard. Yet, Leorio’s face was sallow and there were shadows underneath his eyes, no doubt from endless nights without sleep.

“So am I,” Kurapika confessed, “but I’ll be fine.”

Kurapika smiled in reassurance and ignored the sudden ache he felt. There were too many secrets that he kept from Leorio, but he pretended that the lies coming from his mouth were the truth.

The love he had for his family and friends always came first and foremost. Even in Leorio’s presence, he found that he had thought of Kuroro, for he was a leader that pledged loyalty to his own group. They were too alike in that regard, as their strength sprang from the solidity of their bonds with their loved ones.

The moment Leorio had to return to work, Kurapika reached into his bag. He felt the weight of the bottle in his hand, the texture of the label underneath his fingers. He shook a pill into his hand and placed it on his tongue, swallowing it.

Suddenly, he seized by a coughing fit, unable to catch his breath until it ceased. He washed it down with water and absently wondered about the adverse effects that Leorio berated him about.

 

* * *

 

Kurapika had fallen back into routine, but something felt different. He couldn’t quite put a name on it.

“You seem at peace,” Senritsu said softly. “I haven’t seen you look like this in a while.”

The revelation was surprising, but not too difficult to believe.

“I haven’t felt this way in a long time,” Kurapika sighed.

Senritsu closed her eyes and listened to his heartbeat. She waved her hands to the shape of the sound and smiled. “Being at peace suits you.”

It wasn’t that simple, but tonight, he could try.

He felt a little braver.

 

* * *

 

That night, an art exhibition was held on the first deck. Kurapika had searched the room for Tserriednich’s presence but to no avail. When he looked back, he found his mate staring at him instead.

Kurapika nearly jumped out of his skin and quickly turned around. He didn’t need water to drown, because Kuroro’s scent engulfed him and flooded his airways. It felt like an eternity had passed since they last met.

He could feel Kuroro’s eyes on his back. It was unlikely that Kuroro would leave if he had just ignored him. “Why don’t you look at the art around you instead?”

Kuroro chuckled and took the last few steps between them to lean toward his ear. "You should know that I have nothing I wish to look at but you, even in a room of priceless art."

An inescapable blush crept onto his cheeks, spreading all the way to the tips of his ears, and he couldn’t deny that Kuroro's words spoke volumes to him.

 

* * *

 

In a large safe guarded by his right-hand man, there were thirty pairs of the Scarlet Eyes encased in glass canisters and preserved in formaldehyde. One pair was in his room and the remaining five pairs were in the hands of a deranged prince.

The guards stepped away from the cabin door to allow his entrance. How many people had walked through this door and were never seen again, Kurapika did not know.

The room was a spacious chamber with antique decor and silk brocades. A long dining table carved from dark oak separated him from his host.

“Welcome, my friend.” Tserriednich occupied the far end of the table, supported by guards dressed in black and contemptuous sneers at his appearance. He raised his wine glass in Kurapika’s direction. “I’ve been expecting you.”

The door shut behind Kurapika with a heavy thud. To ease his spiraling uncertainty, he donned a blank expression, deflecting a bombardment of suspicious stares from the guards. He met Tserriednich’s eyes across the expanse of polished wood.

“I will get straight to the point,” Kurapika stated, closing his eyes in thought. The exchange of pleasantries was unnecessary. “I seek the five pairs of the Scarlet Eyes in your possession. I am not here to bargain with you.”

He opened his eyes, crimson bleeding into his vision. If Tserriednich was surprised, he didn’t appear so and continued to regard him with detached politeness. The guards immediately moved to defensive stances but Tserriednich waved them off.

He laced his fingers and rested his chin on them, briefly considering the demand. “You continue to surprise me, my friend. I can see that suffering shaped you into the masterpiece you are today. Tell me your story.”

“My story is not for your ears,” Kurapika declared.

“What happened years ago—”

“I’m not what happened years ago and I’m not a damn page in a history book. If you are aware of what suffering entails, then you should understand the significance of the eyes.”

Tserriednich wagged his finger in a patronizing manner. “It is pain that distinguishes you from me. As long as your suffering drives you and defines your will to live—”

Tserriednich rolled up the sleeve on his arm and reached for the knife that lay beside his dinner. With the blade against his arm, he slashed the skin there and presented the flow of his blood, as red as the glass of wine.

He laughed, a hollow sound that echoed throughout the room.

“You see, I don’t have the capacity to feel pain.” Tserriednich shook his head. “Truly, I cannot understand what you feel.”

“How unfortunate,” Kurapika answered, and perhaps it was the lack of inflection in his tone that warranted an amused look from Tserriednich.

“If you cannot tell me your story, then tell me this.” Tserriednich sniffed the air. “You smell different. _Who do you belong to?_ ”

Kurapika’s heart, only for a fleeting moment, stopped beating. It froze in his chest and his blood, cold enough to begin with, ran even colder.

“I belong to myself.”

“Omegas exist for the sake of breeding,” Tserriednich said, shrugging in a display of indifference. “That is the worldwide law.”

The worldwide law be damned, because even if Kurapika had lain with his mate, he was still his own person. He glared at Tserriednich with thinly veiled disgust.

“I was looking forward to having you, but I’m truly curious to know who claimed you first. Did they force you?” He began approaching where Kurapika stood, the click of his footsteps filling him with dread. The blood ran from his wound. “Or perhaps, you seduced them?”

“I did no such thing,” Kurapika spat.

“The fact is, you couldn’t suppress your instincts, just like an animal.” Tserriednich grabbed Kurapika’s collar, the buttons popping off the shirt. The skin on his neck was exposed, revealing his mark, his scarlet letter. “You are no different from from the rest of them.”

A flicker of defiance shone brightly across Kurapika’s face, but it died down just as quickly.

“You’re right,” Kurapika said fiercely, resolutely. Seizing the hand on his shirt and removing it, he forced a smile. “I will stop at nothing to accomplish my goals.”

It was the calm before the storm.

 

* * *

 

Gunfire erupted throughout the room, but the bullets ricocheted off the walls in vain. The empty shells fell to the floor before all of the guards followed, unconscious and strewn across the room.

Tserriednich, the last of them, dropped to his knees as a flawed centerpiece in the room. Kurapika had spared him like the others who had the Scarlet Eyes in their possession. Death was too merciful and there were other ways to punish these sinners.

Kurapika broke them until they were haunted by ghosts of their own.

He did not take any more lives—he took everything else.

 

* * *

 

He couldn’t remember how he ended up in front of this door, but he just knew that it was the right room. The bond had tugged on him, making the mark on his neck hum in recognition and pulling him to where he was meant to go.

After three knocks, he heard the flicker of the light and soft footsteps approach the entrance. The door slid open and Kuroro appeared with widened eyes, clearly taken aback.

Kurapika pushed past him and entered the room. “We need to talk.”

“Showing up to my room and looking like this—” Kuroro’s gaze fell on Kurapika’s shirt collar before he met his eyes. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

His face grew hot. “That isn’t what I’m here for.”

Kuroro’s gentleness had been so sincere, and he truly believed that Kuroro wouldn’t do anything that he didn’t want.

He gestured for Kurapika to sit on the couch and smiled in amusement when Kurapika chose to sit as far away as possible from him.

“Tserriednich didn’t have the eyes,” Kurapika explained. Kuroro’s expression turned serious at the mention of the name. “They were missing. Stolen.”

“Correct,” Kuroro confirmed, fixated on his neck again. Kurapika suddenly felt self-conscious and his hand flew to cover the side of his neck, but Kuroro only chuckled at the gesture.

He pressed his lips into a tight scowl. “Is it fun to mess with me?”

“I’m not messing with you,” Kuroro assured and Kurapika could have sworn that he heard the lie.

A red book materialized in Kuroro’s hand and he conjured a large cloth that flapped over the table. As he removed the cloth, ten glass cylinders appeared, each containing a crimson eyeball suspended in preserving liquid.

He let out a breath that he didn’t remember holding. “Must you always take what is mine?”

“I’m giving them to you,” Kuroro replied in a gentle tone.

The gesture wasn’t endearing at all. Kuroro always did things out of his own accord and had gotten involved where he wasn't needed. It hurt his pride that even when it came to Tserriednich, Kuroro was one step ahead of him.

Kurapika sighed out of frustration, trying his best to maintain a calm demeanor. “I didn't need your help to fulfill my mission.”

Kuroro tilted his head curiously and nearly looked like a kicked puppy. “I just wanted to return what belonged to you.”

It was odd. Kuroro had taken everything until Kurapika had nothing left, and now all he wanted to do was give and give.

But even if Kuroro had given Kurapika his life, the debt of blood could not be so easily resolved. “I don’t understand you.”

"As your mate, I have this—intrinsic desire to take care of you,” Kuroro acknowledged carefully. It sounded much like courtship to Kurapika and at that moment, he wondered how heavily this bond affected Kuroro.

“I can take care of myself,” he snapped.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Kuroro said, so quiet that Kurapika almost did not hear him. “I stepped out of line and did something I should not have.”

Kurapika went quiet. He didn’t know if Kuroro had the capacity to feel regret.

His words should not have made things any better, but Kurapika found that he wasn’t as upset as he should have been. He was suddenly too tired and it wasn’t the typical weariness in his muscles, but the weariness that came from pursuing his lifelong mission. His impossible rage had turned into unadulterated sorrow.

It was almost over and Kurapika could finally lay his brethren to rest.

Kurapika took a deep breath. He was so close to resorting to violence, possessed by neverending anger, but he would not let his temper control him.

His voice was deceptively unperturbed. “I don’t quite believe that these come with no strings attached.”

Kuroro raised an eyebrow at his tone. “You might be right.”

His hand brushed Kurapika’s thigh and Kurapika made a strangled, surprised sound, nearly punching him out of reflex. “Lend me your lap.”

Despite his verbal protests, Kuroro lay his head down on his thighs. The rest of his body stretched on the couch and he stared back at Kurapika with an unreadable gaze before closing his eyes. “I won’t do anything. Just, indulge me for a bit.”

Kurapika didn’t owe anything to him. There was a moment of hesitation but then, he ran his fingers through Kuroro’s soft hair and swept his bangs away from his forehead.

“What, no death threats?” Kuroro asked, opening one eye.

“Contrary to what you may think, my life doesn’t revolve around killing you,” he said calmly, scoffing when Kuroro feigned a hurt expression. He tugged at his hair. “I have more important things to focus on.”

They fell into a comfortable silence as Kurapika fiddled with his hair, finding that it was more soothing than arousing.

Fate had considered them to be a perfect match, two broken pieces that could stand well on their own, but fit each other perfectly. Kurapika didn’t think that people needed one another to make themselves feel whole, but that was exactly what the bond did.

He had cared for so many people and including someone like Kuroro among them, someone who fate had chained to him, seemed impossible. He didn’t know if he could care for Kuroro without the consequences of the world weighing down on him. In another life, if things were vastly different, he wondered if they would ever be able to be together in the end.

He shook off the foolish thought. Without his thirst for vengeance and the blood on their hands, they wouldn't be themselves anymore. They wouldn't be bonded the way they were now.

It wasn’t a matter of what he wanted in another life so much as it was a matter of what he wanted now.

That was what Kurapika thought as he brushed back Kuroro’s hair and leaned down, placing a light kiss against the cross tattoo on his forehead.

Pulling back, he found Kuroro at a loss for words, eyes wide with surprise. Even though he felt foolish, he continued to look down at Kuroro, evenly meeting his stare.

“You’re making this difficult for me.”

“Don’t you always take what you want?” Kurapika accused, flushing deeply in embarrassment.

“I do, but it’s important for me to know what _you_ want, Kurapika.”

Silence hung in the air between them as he absentmindedly ran his hair through Kuroro’s hair again and again.

It was difficult to define what he wanted in the way that Kuroro had wanted him. Kuroro made himself clear that he wanted Kurapika not simply because he was an Omega. It was strangely comforting that because Kuroro knew nothing of sympathy, nothing he ever did was out of pity.

“I don’t know,” Kurapika finally admitted. This feeling, like he found something that he lost, was going to be the death of him. “But right now, I just want to kiss you.”

Kuroro sat upright and Kurapika placed both hands on the sides of his face. What came next would determine the course of his relationship with Kuroro. How much of this was instinct and how much was conscious attraction to Kuroro?

He was going to find out.

He stared fixedly at Kuroro's lips and pulled him into a gentle kiss, brushing his mouth over Kuroro’s own. It was like every bit of the relief that he lacked for years rushed into him at full force. His entire body relaxed with a single exhale.

Kuroro licked at Kurapika’s lower lip and pushed his tongue into his mouth. He earned a soft sigh from Kurapika and at the sound, he deepened the kiss. It was unhurried unlike last time and Kurapika had to admit that the slow pace was pleasant.

“I thought that this was difficult for you,” Kuroro said, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Kurapika’s lips, “because there were boundaries for you.”

For the first time, Kurapika smiled at him, just a small curve of his lips. “It will always be difficult. But I want to touch you the way you touched me.”

He gently pushed at Kuroro’s shoulder until he was leaning back on the sofa.

“Kurapika, what—”

Kurapika hushed Kuroro by straddling him. His mouth found the calm, steady pulse in Kuroro’s neck and nipped at it until a pink mark bloomed on his pale skin. With a gentle licking motion, he soothed the mark.

Kuroro sucked in a breath, remembering what he was about to say. “Wait, just a moment.”

“What?” Kurapika mouthed at his throat and brought his fingers to press against Kuroro’s scent glands.

A low growl came from Kuroro and despite that Kurapika could not see, he could imagine the turmoil within him. He peered past Kurapika, gesturing to the table. “I don’t think it would be proper to do this here.”

“Then take me to bed,” Kurapika murmured, against his jaw.

Kuroro didn’t need to be told twice as he lifted Kurapika, holding him under his thighs so Kurapika could hook his legs around his waist. As Kuroro carried him, Kurapika didn’t stop marking him, teeth grazing at the stretch of his throat. He kicked open the door and nearly stumbled through it, putting Kurapika down on his bed.

Kuroro kneeled at the edge of the bed. “Are you sure about this?”

The hesitation was unexpected. Without the heat overwhelming his inhibitions, Kurapika was made hyper aware of the situation.

He reached out to caress Kuroro’s cheek. “If you delay this any longer, I’m going to change my mind.”

Kuroro laughed, his features softening. He unbuttoned the rest of Kurapika’s shirt and traced the scar that was left behind on his neck, the mark that would remain for as long as he lived.

Kuroro positioned himself above him. Kurapika tilted his head to the side permissively, letting Kuroro dip down and kiss the mark. His breath was warm against Kurapika’s skin and he bit down firmly, leaving another mark that would surely bruise.

He trailed a finger down the side of his neck, to his collarbone, and Kurapika couldn’t help but shudder beneath his touch. His hand moved to Kurapika’s chest and he brushed his finger over his nipple, leaning forward to catch the other with his tongue. He pinched his nipple, earning a soft gasp from Kurapika. The sensation was peculiar, but Kurapika didn’t mind.

He moved down Kurapika’s abdomen and to his waist, his touch light as a feather. As he dragged the zipper of Kurapika’s pants down, he slipped his hand inside and pulled his undergarments down with it.

Kuroro slid his hand under Kurapika's knee to spread his thighs apart. Kneeling between his legs, Kuroro kissed the inside of his thigh and Kurapika couldn’t help but whimper against the cover of his hand.

“You are so beautiful,” Kuroro said softly, drawing his teeth over the skin and biting down. The hand was pulled away from Kurapika’s mouth. “In every single way.”

Kurapika gasped and gave him a pointed expression. “What’s with your fascination with my thighs?”

“I like your legs,” Kuroro began to say, laying kisses down the length of his inner thigh, “and when I mark you here, only I get to see it.”

Kurapika flushed a deep shade of red. “Hurry up.”

A smile teased at Kuroro’s lips. “Whatever my Omega wants.”

Kuroro sat up to push his own tee shirt up and pull it over his head, tossing it on the floor. Kurapika’s gaze slid over the expanse of his pale skin, the sculpt of his muscles. The spider tattoo was inked on his arm, a reminder of who his mate was. As much as Kurapika wanted to touch, he kept his hands to himself.

Kuroro reached over and opened the drawer, rummaging through it until he retrieved a bottle of lubricant. He poured a generous amount on his fingers and nestled in between Kurapika’s thighs again.

His palm kept Kurapika's thighs spread and his other hand ventured even further down. His finger was cold, making Kurapika stiffen. There was a moment of hesitation that gripped his heart, but Kuroro waited for him.

The feeling subsided as Kurapika calmed himself. He didn't have to say anything as Kuroro knew what he wanted.

Kuroro’s finger lingered at the rim, letting the lubricant warm up before he pressed past his entrance. He eased in slowly and Kurapika shuddered at the pressure. Kuroro began moving his finger and it was a lazy sensation that made him open up for more.

He slipped his finger out but returned with another, forcing Kurapika wider. By the time he worked three fingers in and out of him, his legs were trembling, made weak with the stretch.

“I know you like it here,” Kuroro murmured and brushed against his sensitive spot. Kurapika shut his eyes, focusing on the feel of his fingers. The way that he prepared Kurapika was too gentle, almost loving. “I want to know everything that you like.”

Kurapika opened his eyes, irises turning crimson. He felt so full yet so empty, overwhelmed with the need of having Kuroro inside him.

Kurapika reached forward and captured Kuroro’s wrist in his hand. “Let me.”

His response wasn't so much a word as it was a hitched breath, a sound that Kurapika wanted to hear more of. Kuroro blinked the confusion off his face, gently pulling his fingers away from Kurapika’s body.

Kurapika sighed at the loss, but he had recovered by the time Kuroro started shrugging out of his sweatpants. Kurapika pulled at the elastic of the boxers, grabbing the waistband himself and shoving them off of Kuroro’s hips.

He took Kuroro by the shoulders and forced him onto the bed. A breath caught in his throat again and his surprised expression was undoubtedly satisfying to Kurapika.

Kurapika moved to sit on Kuroro’s lap and leaned forward to meet his lips in a soft kiss. Kuroro was mellow underneath him, opening his mouth when his tongue ran over his lower lip.

For a moment, the room was hazy and unfocused. Kurapika managed a sharp inhale as his surroundings began to steady. Kuroro dragged his hand over Kurapika’s hipbones to tug him forward, allowing himself to press against the curve of Kurapika’s backside.

They remained in that position as he took hold of Kuroro’s erection, guiding it to his entrance. It was a satisfied sigh that Kurapika let out when he pushed back, his mouth falling open as the head pressed inside, ensuring a pleasant stretch.

The feeling of Kuroro within him stole Kurapika’s breath, thick and hard as he slid in. Kurapika took his time, observing Kuroro’s reaction as he took him in. His gaze burned as Kurapika pushed further down and adjusted to the girth of his shaft.

He ran his hands over Kurapika’s back and the movement comforted Kurapika. He curved his palms to touch his waist, eventually coming to grip tightly at his hips. When Kurapika seated himself further, Kuroro’s fingers twitched against his skin.

“Does anyone else get to see you like this?” Kuroro asked.

Kuroro was his first in many aspects and it was odd that Kuroro was suddenly concerned about this.

“Does it matter?”

Kuroro frowned. “Of course it does.”

“What about you?” Kurapika countered with a scoff.

“No.” Kuroro shook his head and squeezed his hip. “No, you’re different."

“I’m the same as you,” Kurapika answered, and he had never seen him look so surprised. Kuroro’s expression brightened and he lay a kiss on his lips.

Kurapika licked Kuroro’s lips and lifted his hips, only to rock back down. It felt good, mind numbingly so. He had been well-prepared and the feeling being full again made his head spin.

“Kurapika,” Kuroro gasped, watching Kurapika push his thighs up and consume him whole.

Kuroro stared at him as if he was on display. It was nothing short of intoxicating as Kurapika moved forward with his hands against Kuroro’s bare chest, looking back at him from under his lashes, reveling in how much Kuroro wanted him.

It made him feel powerful in a way that he didn’t think was possible. He was going to bring Kuroro down a notch. He leaned in close to Kuroro’s ear, right above his earring.

“You’re going to come for me, Kuroro.”

Kuroro made a choked, surprised sound as Kurapika raised his hips and lowered himself again. The next time he rolled his hips, Kuroro matched his pace by thrusting upward. A moan escaped from his lips and Kurapika started moving more earnestly, meeting each thrust as best as he could.

Kurapika straightened himself up and placed his hands on Kuroro's shoulders. As he pushed down, Kuroro slammed his hips forward and drove himself deeper. The new angle produced a burst of pleasure each time Kuroro's erection was buried inside him.

Their movements turned hurried as they rocked against each other, Kurapika losing himself in order to chase after relief. He rode Kuroro without abandon, rising and falling repeatedly over his thick length.

Kuroro's fingers dug into his hips and he helped force Kurapika down. He felt urgency from Kuroro, the veiled desperation hidden in his thrusts. The familiar heat low in his abdomen made his hips stutter and his rhythm slow.

Kurapika wanted to draw it out a little longer, but his cock, hitting the deepest parts inside Kurapika, his hoarse voice, his scent—

It was all too much. Kurapika leaned forward to bring their faces close, bringing his lips to the side of Kuroro’s neck, breathing softly against the skin, as his hand gripped his jaw.

He bit down.

Kuroro visibly flinched, but Kurapika didn’t have time to consider his reaction. He continued moving and shuddered around Kuroro. Never in his life had Kurapika ever come without being touched, but the last push of his hips made him spill all over his stomach.

The next thing he knew, he was on his back on the sheets, his own mouth pressed insistently against Kuroro’s own. Kuroro maintained a strong grip on his hips as he pounded into him desperately, making Kurapika gasp with every thrust within his oversensitive body.

“God—” Kurapika broke the kiss and let out a soft moan, “—it’s so good.”

“My name,” Kuroro breathed. He pulled back and pushed in harder this time, increasing the force of his thrusts.

It shook from his lungs. “Kuroro—”

His last thrust made Kurapika arch against him and he could feel the twitch of his cock and the rush of his release filling him up. Kuroro closed his eyes and bit his lip, his entire body flushed and tense as he came inside Kurapika. The sight was so erotic that Kurapika nearly came undone again.

Kurapika was sated and Kuroro continued to lean over him, catching his breath. He turned to look at him, and Kurapika could see the mark in the curve between Kuroro’s neck and shoulder.

Kurapika moved without thinking, his fingers brushing over the spot and touching it. He caressed the mark, his mark. Even if it would eventually fade unlike his, Kurapika ensured that he left a mark of his own.

 

* * *

 

In the early morning, Kurapika slipped out of bed and unclasped the balcony lock. His bare feet met the damp, cold floor of the balcony.

The sea shone beneath him with the light of the morning. Despite that the water was endless, he was not afraid of falling.

Kurapika inhaled, breathing in the fresh scent of the sea, the cleanest air that he had breathed in a long time. The crisp breeze rushed by, sending a shiver throughout his body.

A new sense of calm arose within him and he felt unendingly alive.

Soft footsteps came from behind, but Kurapika still had his eyes on the water. It wasn’t until a jacket was draped over him that he turned to his mate.

Kuroro stood behind him, his hands on Kurapika’s shoulders.

“Smells like you,” Kurapika breathed, looking up at him. Kuroro gently held Kurapika close to him, his chest against Kurapika’s back.

He possessed a new resolve.

It was supposed to be his newfound revenge, to the world that would not listen to him and kept spilling blood on his hands instead. If the world had taken it upon itself to do what Kurapika could not, then he would return the gesture and do what no other could.

He moved on.

No amount of time would be enough to forget, no mercy in his heart would be enough to forgive Kuroro, the man who destroyed everything he loved and tried to piece everything back together.

Yet, Kurapika made peace with the past and found himself content with simply living. Perhaps, they could exist together in the long run—after all, an unpredictable peace was still peace.

Kuroro leaned toward his ear and nuzzled his neck with adoration. “What should I do to make you fall in love with me?”

He sensed a lighthearted note in his words but still found it necessary to answer. “You can’t possibly be serious.”

“Is that a challenge?” Kuroro teased, laying a kiss against the mark on his neck.

His words were oddly familiar and Kurapika struggled to bring something to the forefront of his memory. He turned to face Kuroro instead.

“Let me give you something for a change.” Kurapika dug into his back pocket and pulled out a copy of his room key.

Kuroro cocked his head to his side, his black hair falling to the side with the movement. He had a puzzled expression as he stared at Kurapika’s outstretched hand, before dragging his gaze back to meet Kurapika's eyes.

Kurapika smiled and pushed the key into Kuroro’s hand. “You can stop breaking into my room now.”

Kuroro’s face lit up and Kurapika found himself being pulled into an embrace. Kurapika couldn’t remember the last time he received a hug like this, with one of Kuroro's hands curving around Kurapika's back, the other stroking his hair. 

It was a refreshing kind of certainty that resonated within Kurapika, dissipating some of the guilt that led him here. None of this may be what he needed nor what he considered to be his wisest decision, but that didn't bother him as much as he had expected.

The feeling of Kuroro at his side granted him permission for the knowledge that he sought. He had so many questions that needed answers, so many things to discuss.

That was fine.

They had all the time in the world to do that.

Instead of sacrificing one for the other, Kurapika chose both—the oath to his clan and the weight of the world, blind to consequences. Come hell or high water, he would die trying.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Kurapika started to take suppressants again, just in case. Now that he is bonded, the only Alpha that he can only physiologically spend his heats with is Kuroro.  
> * More information about the succession war and Tserriednich should be present in the sequel. I think it would be interesting to explore what bonds are like with polygamy.  
> * Kuroro has a room on the first deck, which is why he has a balcony. I had to remember what the Black Whale looks like.  
> * Claiming bites can only be initiated by Alphas, but that doesn't mean Kurapika can't try. They hurt when the Omega is not in heat.  
> * Knotting only occurs when the Omega is in heat.  
> * Even with the key, Kuroro probably still breaks into his room for the fun of it.  
> * I like to think that Kuroro spoils him rotten, even if Kurapika hates it.
> 
> Hello, thank you for reading! The sequel should be released eventually. I'd like to tie up certain plot points and explore what Kuroro's rut is like (essentially an Alpha's heat) and possibly an unexpected addition to their family. I will most likely have other fics within this AU series.
> 
> I'm really surprised and thankful that people gave this fic a chance. I'm not sure if I'm entirely happy with how this fic came out. I wrote this to relieve myself from studying physics, so the writing is very rough here and there. 
> 
> It was supposed to be primarily PWP so I'm not sure how it became so sentimental and angsty. The sequel and additional fics will be more polished in terms of writing.
> 
> This is also the first time I finished a fic since 2010 lmao.
> 
> Thank you so much again for reading! Feel free to leave a comment!
> 
> You can also reach out to me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/kimberlyenne) or [Tumblr](http://seiyuna.tumblr.com/).


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